Raining, Pouring
by Padfoot3456
Summary: Takes place throughout the series and two years after the end. Nezumi comes back with a wound- can he confess his real feelings for Sion after two years? Nezumi/Sion.


He doesn't know it, but you hate sweet things. Everyone else in the West Distric knows it, and you forget sometimes how ignorant he is. He gathers you, Girika, and Inukashi in your house (as if you could call it that), and he's grinning as he presents you with an extremely small but well-made cake. It's almost a cupcake, and there's barely any frosting, so even if you don't like it you're still of the opinion that it's a pretty shoddy cake.

And obviously no one's told him of your psychotic hatred (because you don't have dislikes. You have psychotic hatreds) of all sweet things because they're snickering behind his back. And he's grinning, so proud of himself for finding all the proper ingredients and materials and he just looks so damn happy.

So you take the cake, mutter some thanks, and choke the infernal thing down. Sion's just getting more and more happy while you keep your face carefully impassive, and Inukashi and Girika look surprised as hell. You smirk, satisfied that you can still surprise them like that. You give the now-empty plate back and growl that it was a little dry. Sion's still grinning like the idiot that he is, and you feel that familiar warmth in your chest that you get when he smiles at you like that.

Later on, when it's time for you to leave him to his new life in No. 6, he starts crying.

You remember that cake. You remember how happy he was then. And you remember how much Sion means to you and how he is the last person who should ever cry.

You raise his head before tears can fall over those porcelain cheeks and kiss him softly. It's a promise, not a goodbye. You have some loose ends to tie up, but once you do that, you'll find him again. You tell him he'll be okay, and even though it's killing you, you walk away.

Run. Run run run run run run, dammit! Legs, fucking move! The ruins of the wall fly by, and you could care less how many people see your bloodied form as they clear up the ruins. Most of it isn't your blood, but that could very easily change. Your eyes are locked on Macbeth, glancing up at Cravat who's much easier to see in the driving rain. The orange-brown mouse is running along the edges of the rooftops while Macbeth scurries in front of you. You swore you'd never refer to the makeshift mice (because really, who could call them rats when they were so small and fat?) as the names Sion gave them but they grew on you. It's been two years, you think as you stop in an alley for breath and keep an eye out for those pursuing you. Two fucking long years. You wonder if he'll be okay with you showing up after two years with no communication.

You hold your shoulder wound, hoping the bleeding will stop. It's a knife cut, and you're only making it worse by running. You hear a squeak to your right, and find Macbeth a comforting weight on your shoulder, urging you to keep moving.

Not much longer now. Just a little farther, now. You can make it. You know you can. You have to. So you shrug off the wall and keep going. Macbeth jumps off your shoulder to join Cravat and you're off again, running through the rain after the two little dots of color.

They make you go up a bunch of stairs that go up a narrow street, and you stumble-stop in front of a bakery. Karan Bakery. Karan is his mother's name, you remember. You suddenly wonder about your appearance. Is it acceptable enough? Not that you look much different than two years ago- you still wear the same combat boots and the same cargo pants. You've got a scarf and a jacket that are similar to the ones you lost and a long sleeved black shirt under them. Your hair's the same length, because you just cut it to your preferred length last week, and it's still up in that pony tail.

What the hell, you think. You're bleeding, tired, starving , and Macbeth and Cravat both led you here. Why the hell shouldn't you go in? You just hope Sion's in there. Please, if there's any god, and if he's got any mercy for a wretch like you, please let Sion be in there.

You tug at the door, exhausted. You're surprised when it pops open easily. Still, you slip in silently. THeb ell doesn't ring, though you saw it from outside and it looked perfectly fine. You look up, still holding your bleeding shoulder. There, curled in the bell to prevent it from ringing is Hamlet. You reach up affectionately as he squeaks at you, but pain overcomes you and you go back to holding your shoulder, gritting your teeth against the throbbing, stinging pain.

Hamlet drops down, nuzzling your neck before scurrying down your body to the floor, headed for the stairs. You follow, because what else can you do? You've just been so exhausted…

You're a little less quiet going up the stairs than you were sneaking in, but you know Sion's a heavy sleeper. At least, heavy enough that he won't know you're there until you're right up next to him.

You finish climbing the stairs and are met with a room that has a table, two dressers, and a bunk bed. The bottom bed is empty but there's a shock of white hair poking out from the top of the blanket on the top bunk and you grin despite yourself. He hasn't changed.

You near, wondering if you should wake him up. Two years and you can finally feast your eyes on him again. His face is serene in sleep, and his breathing easy. You rest your chin on the mattress, closing your eyes with a sigh. For a moment the pain in your shoulder fades away, and it's just you and him united by a peaceful moment in the pattering rain outside.

Finally you decide to wake him. You need him to take a look at your arm. You're getting dizzy and you still haven't learned how to suture your own wounds.

"Sion." You call gently, trying to stop your voice from sounding to relieved. "Sion, wake up." You'd reach up to shake him, but you'd get blood on the covers and the bell incident not minutes before taught you that reaching up isn't a good idea if you don't want to be in a lot of pain.

You watch his red eyes blearily slide open.

"Nezumi?" He calls your name hoarsely, foggy-voiced with the last dregs of sleep. And it's the most beautiful thing you've ever heard in your life. "Nezumi!" Sion shoots out of bed, surprising you with his enthusiasm.

And then he kisses you. And it's wonderful, warm and loving and sweet- you can't get enough. Still, now's not the time.

"I'm always going to be the one to stitch you up, eh, Nezumi?" Sion murmurs after your initial reunion.

You're both sitting on the floor, indian style and facing each other. You've got our top off to allow your "nurse" more room to stitch up your now- clean wound. The first aid kit is laying open beside you two, and the one overhead light makes everything look a honey yellow color. You've got your arm stretched out, hand resting limply on the floor where Macbeth, Hamlet, and Cravat crawl over, under, and around it. It tickles, but you don't laugh. Instead, you lean forward so your head rests on his shoulder. You close your eyes, noting how Sion doesn't react to this and instead merely adjusts himself to work around this new position.

You missed this.

"Yeah." You answer him quietly and nuzzle into the warmth of where his neck meets his shoulder. "Always."

Sion chuckles without dislodging you, ties off the thread and cuts the excess off.

"There. All done." He smooths his hand over your new stitches and somehow manages to pull you into a hug. But it doesn't matter because you're hugging him, too.

"Told you. Told you we'd meet again." You tell him, dropping kisses on his throat.

You don't know why you do it, but it feels right and Sion's not pulling away, so why the hell not? You ask yourself that a lot, lately. Sion cups the back of your neck with one hand, soothing the ache left inside of you by two whole years without him.

"Sion… Sion…" You mumble his name, holding him tightly to you, dropping more gentle kisses on his exposed collar bone because his sleep shirt is too big for him and it's slipping off one shoulder because he's still too damn thin.

He pulls your hair out of the pony tail and massages away the ache on gets after holding one's hair in a certain way for a long time and then changing that. He reassures you that he's _here. Here for you, Nezumi._

That's right, Sion's always been there for you. Whether he realizes it or not, and whether you knew it all the time or not. He's always there with that innocent smile and those kind words. And you always think you don't deserve him. You'll taint him with the things you've done and seen. But he's still him. He's still Sion. And that's so refreshing and comforting, you can't help but want to take it in, to want more of him.

And he lets you. He doesn't need you to tell him that you need this, because he needs it too. He falls back, pulling you with him and kicking away the first aid kit. You've braced yourself by your forearms by his head, his arms wrapped loosely around your neck.

You kiss him. Again and again until he grants you access, and your tongues fight for dominance. Everything else is obliterated from your mind, and you can only think of him. His fingers are in your hair and he's tugging in a pain-pleasure way. You rub yourself against him with a groan. He's arching into you and you straddle him, shifting your center of gravity until you can let your hands wander without fear of landing on top of him like a total dumbass.

After, when you're both laying in bed naked as the day you were born, listening to the rain, you watch him. You think he's asleep, but you can't be sure. You can't really see his face if his head is on your chest like it is. It's dark, and while you've always been able to see well in the dark, the details are obscured from you.

You comb your fingers through his snow white hair, your thumb traces the red scar on his face that's slightly raised, and you think about how much your really care for him.

"I'm home, Sion." You murmur. "Love you." You breathe the second part, almost hoping he didn't hear because you're Nezumi. You're not supposed to have such emotions. You too dirty and spoiled and tainted for that.

"Welcome back." You startle a little. So he was awake, and he did hear you. "I love you, too."

You both fall silent, curled under the warmth of the blankets. You stare up at the ceiling, listening to the rain and not really thinking about much something rustles and squeaks next to your head and under the covers, and the rats join you two in the security the bed provides.

You're warm. You're hungry, but that can wait. You're all patched up, and you feel fulfilled and happy and loved, all because of the boy sleeping on you right now.

You sigh and close your eyes, and wonder how the hell you managed to let yourself leave in the first place.

* * *

><p>Just a little something for No. 6. 8D I just finished watchingreading it, so I felt like I had to do something. (:

Anyways.

The cake was because it was the anniversary of when Sion and Nezumi first met, I know I didn't explain that. And Sion's mom wasn't in the house because she was on vacation or something, I don't know. She just wasn't there. XDD Also, I have no idea where that kid is. With Karan- that's where the baby is. XDD Lawl.

As always, hearts to you all. :3

Pad


End file.
